


Perpetuance

by Rescind



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rescind/pseuds/Rescind
Summary: Taylor Hebert is of the firm opinion that fate has something against her. After loosing her mother in a car accident three years ago and now her father in another on Christmas Eve, she's left bereft of family, friends, and purpose. Wishing for nothing more than an end to her suffering, she attempts to commit suicide. Unfortunately, her new powers make that all but impossible.





	1. Prologue

Perpetuance  
  
Prologue _  
  
Lethargic._  
  
Just as it had been for many revolutions before, the Warrior entity's broadcast received no response. Paused above the largest body of salt water on this planet, the Warrior entity blankly surveyed the star that was this system's center.  
  
_Supplicate?_  
  
There would be no response. The Thinker entity was gone; destroyed in the beginning stages of the cycle. The Thinker had developed a plan for this cycle, possessed of new ideas and greater efficiency. The Warrior could not decipher their complexity and the loss of the Thinker left this cycle indistinct. The Warrior entity continued seeding shards, gathering information, and cataloguing new findings as a matter of familiar routine, but no matter what the Warrior tried it felt lacking.  
  
The integral part of the Thinker entity's plan for this cycle was lost. It was destroyed along with the Thinker, and the Warrior could not rediscover it. More vexing, was the final broadcast received, accompanied by a single unfamiliar shard.  
  
( ** _Imperative!_** _Transcendence. Triumph.)_  
  
In spite of the Thinker entity's surety of success, the Warrior could not place the same value expressed upon the solitary shard. While in concept, the entrusted shard was the closest to the parameters of their objective they had come, in practice the shard had no more impact than the radiation striking the Warrior's avatar.  
  
The creation and manipulation of positive matter and negative matter. In theory, with the negative matter contained or sent to a separate reality, the positive matter would be a net gain of matter and energy for that reality. However, in practice the effect was no different than simply taking matter from one reality and bringing it to another and by comparison the rate was abysmally slow. The negative matter could theoretically serve as an unstoppable form of attack, but again with the exceptionally low rate of creation, it would never be truly impactful in direct combat with another of its kind.  
  
The Thinker entity's final gift of which imperative value was expressed, was a puzzle the Warrior was getting no closer to solving. The Warrior was not as clever as the Thinker and clearly a viewpoint of practical application was not enough to decipher the value of this shard.  
  
Or, perhaps it truly had no value, and that final transmission was one of corruption caused by catastrophic loss and failure. The Thinker entity was gone, and with them went all of the answers, the plans, and the purpose.  
  
_Forlorn._  
  
The silence of the multiverse was the only answer the Warrior received.  
  
Perhaps it would be best to seed this shard into the cycle. The Warrior was growing no closer to solving its puzzle and focusing on it served only as a reminder of what was lost. Perhaps in the applications of the cycle's experiment, an answer could be found. Certainly, it would be no less productive than the Warrior's empty efforts.  
  
With an absent thought, the actions of hosts were simulated and when a suitable one was found, the questionable shard was prepared and assigned, awaiting the proper events to form its connections.  
  
Putting uncomfortable questions out of its thoughts, the Warrior turned its attention back to the planet on which it resided. With a single application of clairvoyance, an event in which the Warrior could intercede was found and so its pause came to an end.  
  
Perhaps today a purpose in pressing onwards could be found, or maybe instead, a reason not to.


	2. 1.1

1.1  
  
The darkness at the bottom of the bay was uncomfortable. It left me with nothing to focus on and so my mind wandered to unbearable places. It was while considering those painful recollections that I came to the conclusion that there was a sentient force with a profound love of irony in control of the world, and it hated my guts.  
  
Statistically speaking, car accidents were not uncommon, but to lose my mom in one three years ago, and now my dad in another on Christmas Eve could be nothing but directed maliciousness.  
  
Had I been getting too hopeful? Was it too full of myself to think that maybe things were getting better? School had been absolute hell ever since my former best friend Emma Barnes had turned on me and put bullying stereotypes the world over to shame, but things had been looking a bit brighter before Christmas break. Emma and her partners in torturing me, Sophia Hess and Madison Clements seemed to have been getting bored with me. The shoves from Sophia lacked a certain energy, and Emma's weakening verbal barbs seemed to imply that they were laying off, maybe finally moving on to a more interesting target.  
  
I had even started to talk with one of my classmates. We were a long way from being friends, and I wouldn't say that I trusted her, but when you spent every school day being abused or outright ignored for fear of your status as pariah spreading, even one person acting a bit friendly, normal even, was like an oasis in the desert. I wanted to get her a present to show my gratitude, so Dad volunteered to drive me to the mall to find one.  
  
We didn't even make it half way there. The roads had been a bit slippery after a bout of freezing rain ushered in a Brockton Bay style grey Christmas. Dad was giving me advice on how to spot ice and on the importance of driving slowly for when I turned 16 and could take the test for my permit. It was advice the driver of that truck must have never learned. One patch of black ice and a shitty little grey pickup was all it took to take away the last of my family. I can only hope dad hadn't seen it coming and didn't have to suffer. One second we're passing under a green light while he gives me his opinion on "ten and two" and the next, the driver's side of the car is crumpling in on itself.  
  
There was pain, so much blood, and then darkness.  
  
I woke up sometime later, after the firemen managed to pry me from the broken shell of dad's car, in the back of an ambulance. The paramedic watching over me did his best to impress upon me how much of a miracle it was that I hadn't been injured in the crash. Completely forgetting about the pain I had been in, I asked about my dad.  
  
I came to loathe "miracles".  
  
After that, a number of people came to "check up on me." Their faces blurred together in my mind and after an indeterminate length of time I was shuffled around to a few locations before some familiar voices pulled me out of my detachedly numb haze. Kurt and Lacey Dawkins were a couple who worked together at the Dockworker's Association. My dad had been their boss and one of their closest friends.  
  
It seemed that since I had no surviving family, my dad had marked the pair as the ones to call should anything happen to him leaving me with nowhere to go. Words like "shock" and "trauma" were tossed around by a man in a stuffy grey suit as he spoke to the two in a clinically detached monotone. Eventually, Lacey broke off from the pair to kneel down in front of where I sat.  
  
"Hey Taylor, you remember us right? Lacey and Kurt? We haven't been over much lately but we used to come have barbeques with your mom and dad." She winced a little at her own statement but otherwise did an admirable job of pretending that my dad hadn't just been killed in an accident. She seemed to be waiting for a response, but I could only manage to raise my eyes to stare blankly at her. She glanced back at Kurt briefly before giving me a sad little smile and continuing on.  
  
"Danny asked us if we could look after you if for some reason he couldn't be around. Is that alright with you, coming to stay with us?" I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I was simply empty. No words came to mind, and I couldn't be bothered to so much as nod my head. Lacey soldiered on anyway.  
  
"Well, our house has always been too big for just the two of us. Kurt would always argue with me over what to do with the second bedroom so it's a bit bland right now, but I'm sure in no time we can get it comfortable for you." After another short period of silence, Lacey took a deep breath and rubbed her hands together, standing and turning back to Kurt and Mr. grey suit.  
  
It was in their bathroom that I first tried my hand at suicide. With the bullying following my mom's death, I'd found myself considering it before, but had always talked myself out of it with thoughts of "not letting the bullies win" or "not wanting to hurt my dad." Now I was empty. There was no drive pushing me forwards, and no voice in the back of my head feeding me doubts. I just felt profoundly tired. I wanted this all to end. I didn't want to hurt anymore, to care anymore, to feel anymore. So, while sitting in Kurt and Lacey's bathtub, I tried to take a pair of scissors to my wrist.  
  
It didn't work.  
  
Not in the, "they broke the door in and caught me before it was too late" kind of way either. No matter how hard I tried to drive the tip of the metal scissors into my wrist, my skin stubbornly refused to be pierced. More than that, I didn't even feel any pain. There was a sensation of touch or maybe impact but no pain whatsoever. It was like I were simply poking at my wrist with a finger instead of slamming a sharp metal point into my skin.  
  
It was at that moment that I remembered the pain from the accident and how it had vanished by the time I woke up. A desperate sort of dread settled over me and I realized that my unwanted miracle was a full blown curse. I had become a parahuman and at the very least was superhumanly tough.  
  
My scream probably woke the neighborhood.  
  
I fled shortly after. Kurt had burst into the bathroom, catching me in the tub with a pair of scissors and made the obvious (and correct) conclusion. He lunged to get the scissors away from me and I let him, they wouldn't do me any good anyway. As I stood to run, he tried to catch me but it seemed that I had some form of super strength as well. He was hardly an obstacle as I brushed him aside and burst past Lacey out the front door.  
  
I ran for a long time heading deeper into the docks. Neighborhoods in need of repair transformed into entire abandoned blocks. I wasn't getting tired, but eventually stopped anyway. I found a tall apartment building that looked like it had been gutted by a fire and made my way to the top. I didn't even hesitate before throwing myself over the side. The sidewalk took some damage, but the impact didn't even feel jarring to me.  
  
That's what led me here, to the bottom of the bay. Even if I couldn't end things with cuts or impacts, I still needed to breathe right? That was apparently untrue as well. Breathing water felt strange. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, just bizarre in a heavy syrupy sort of way. I didn't even feel cold. I had fled into a wet December night with nothing more than a pair of jeans and a baggy sweatshirt on and jumped off the nearest pier into the frigid murky waters and it may as well have been room temperature as far as my body could sense.  
  
A hysterical sort of laughing sob made its way out of me then. The sensation of gritty water being forced out of my nose was also strange. I felt absolutely defeated. Apparently it wasn't good enough for the universe to shatter my world and my life, I was to be denied the peace of death as well. Surely this was hell and I was being forced to atone for some unspeakable sin.  
  
Eventually I sloshed back to shore, working my way up the rocks that protected the bank from erosion, while water poured out of my mouth and nose. Every breath forced out another murky spray. I found myself irrationally infuriated by it. Taking a deep breath, I forced out a gurgling scream. Feeling more water in my lungs I took another breath and screamed again and again, repeating until no more water came out. Then I screamed again anyway, howling my frustration and despair for the world to hear.  
  
It wasn't fair. I had dreamt of getting powers my entire life. I would tie a towel to my back and pretend to fly around like Alexandria, and now of all times the mocking hand of fate decides to grant my wish.  
  
Eventually I got tired of screaming and simply knelt on the rocks defeated and stared blankly at my hands. I realized that I wasn't wet. My hair wasn't either and not even my clothes had the decency to drip when they should have been soaked. It's weird, the things we focus on when we have nothing left.  
  
With another hysterical laugh, I got back to my feet and just started walking. I paid no attention to my surroundings beyond turning when I couldn't go straight anymore. A car honked at me once. I must have been in the street. It wasn't until I heard a shout from close by that I looked up from my feet.  
  
"The fuck you think you're goin?" The voice had a thick Asian accent. Blankly, I looked up to see who they were talking to. Standing in front of me were a couple dozen men, all Asians and wearing combinations of Red and Green. I knew who they were immediately: the Asian Bad Boyz, one of the biggest of the gangs fighting for control over Brockton Bay. They were led by an infamous parahuman named Lung who had supposedly gone toe to toe with the Endbringer Leviathan and came out ahead, before it sank half of Japan. They had all turned to look at me and I felt a brief thrill of instinctual fear before I remembered that I was trying to kill myself anyway.  
  
Apparently, I had been staring blankly at the man closest to me for too long. He pulled a butterfly knife out of his pocket and deftly flipped it open. "You gotta death wish girl?" For a moment I just kept staring, arms hanging limply at my sides before the question registered with me.  
  
"Ah, no. I mean, yes. Yes I, uh, do." He jerked his hand in a gesture over my shoulder.  
  
"Then get the hell outa here before we have to teach you a- hai?" He flinched back, blinking disbelievingly at me. "What'd you just say?" Distractedly, I stared out over his shoulder at the collection of gang members gawking at me with disbelieving looks. My eyes were drawn to one in particular, a big guy without a shirt, displaying his many dragon tattoos for the world to see and face concealed behind an ornate metal mask, also in the likeness of a dragon. In a detached sort of fascination, I realized that I had actually managed to stumble across Lung. The gang member addressing me seemed to recover from his confusion and stormed up to me, reaching out aggressively for my shoulder.  
  
"You think this is some kind of-" His heated question was cut short as his hand came in to contact with my sweatshirt. His eyes went wide and he exclaimed something to himself in another language, and leaned forwards as though he were trying to push something very heavy. I could only feel the sensation of a hand resting on my shoulder, but no other force. Suddenly he jerked back and took several cautious steps away from me. Lung turned to face me fully as the first muttering of "cape" chorused out from the group.  
  
A number of the gang members drew guns as Lung took a step forwards. It may have been a trick of the light, but he seemed to swell slightly, growing a few inches taller. He held a single hand up and out to his side and the members with guns paused in their attempts to aim.  
  
"You are not wearing a mask." His voice was deep and seemed to command attention. "What do you want?" I blinked at him, the words taking a moment to catch up to me.  
  
"Want?" I repeated. My voice sounded exhausted even to me. "I just want it to end." Lung's head shifted slightly to one side.  
  
"End?" He clarified. I simply nodded. "You seek a warrior's death?" Shrugging weakly I shook my head.  
  
"Any death." I mumbled. "Doesn't have to be a warrior's." With a rueful snort, Lung crossed his arms and seemed to sneer down at me.  
  
"That is no problem of mine. If you are too weak to continue living then end it yourself." I shook my head again with a bit more force this time.  
  
"I can't, I tried." I looked up to meet his eyes directly, my voice gaining an edge of desperation. "I tried! It didn't work. I can't hurt myself. I can't even drown myself. I have nothing left and I can't even just end it! Maybe- maybe you could do something though. You're really strong right? If it's you..." I trailed off as Lung stormed his way closer, towering over me menacingly.  
  
"My strength is not for your convenience. If you wish for death by my hands it will be earned in combat. I do not offer mercy killings." I felt my hands curl into fists as I flinched away to stare at his feet. Beginning to tremble with a mixture of humiliation and desperation I felt myself slowly nod.  
  
"Fine." I agreed, the desperation the only thing driving me forwards. My head snapped up so I could glare at him. "Fine! If that's what it takes I'll do it. I'll fight you for as long as it takes. Is that enough?" Behind Lung, the various gang members began to slowly back away, clearing the area for the expected brawl. I raised my fists up in front of me in the stereotypical fighting stance ubiquitous to television and movies. Lung merely snorted derisively.  
  
"If you can even land a single punch, then maybe-" Impatient and sick of being looked down on, I lunged. In that instant, I felt something shift. Though I still couldn't really feel temperature, I suddenly had the impression that the air behind me cooled. Conversely, my body seemed to heat up as though I were warmed from within by a hot drink. Lung had only a moment to jerk in surprise before my clumsy right hook caught him in the chest.  
  
I must have been stronger than I thought, considering how quickly Lung shot down the road, bouncing off the pavement twice before crashing through the sheet metal siding of one of the many warehouses that lined the streets this far into the docks. Through clenched teeth, I huffed short, quick breaths in and out, the flood of emotions from the accident finally catching up to me.  
  
"I am sick and tired, of **everything!** " My shriek echoed through the quiet night even as a flare of light from the hole into the warehouse where Lung disappeared to, heralded his counterattack. The long gout of fire washed over me with all of the effectiveness of a gentle breeze. I couldn't even feel the heat, unlike the warmth I felt from within. Nevertheless, they were in my way. Raking my arm to the side as though I were trying to clear away a bothersome cobweb, I was slightly surprised when the flame actually fizzled out. On the ground around me, there was a misty circle of frost accompanied by the growing sensation of warmth and fullness beneath my skin.  
  
"This stupid city has taken everything from me. The only thing I have left to lose is my own life and I can't even give that away!" A screech of tearing metal preceded a ferocious roar as Lung tore his way out of the warehouse in a full on charge. He was definitely bigger now, as was obvious in comparison to the size of the hole he'd made on his way in, and his body was wreathed in flickering orange red flames. Picking up speed, he barreled across the street towards me lowering his right shoulder and spreading his arms for a cross between a tackle and a grab.  
  
Closing my eyes and lowering my arms, I waited for the impact. When it came, there was a clap of displaced air but the blow barely registered with me beyond the sensation of contact. I felt Lungs arms wrap around my back and with an audible grunt of exertion I was lifted off the ground on top of his shoulder.  
  
It probably said a lot about my state of mind how irrationally angry that one grunt made me. Lung, a parahuman powerful enough to take on the city's entire Protectorate lineup, was having trouble lifting me.  
  
I snapped.  
  
With an anguished scream, I pulled my hands up to my chest and pushed. Lung instantly jerked back and flopped to the ground as though he had been pulling on a taught rope that suddenly tore in half. I dropped back to my feet with a crunch of crushed asphalt that was punctuated by two dulled metallic thwacks. I looked to the ground at my feet and discovered the source.  
  
Lungs arms, partway covered with gleaming silver scales, were slowly rolling to a stop on either side of me. There appeared to be clean, straight line cuts near the shoulders that had severed them completely. Uncertain, I turned my attention back to Lung in an attempt to figure out what had happened.  
  
He had managed to roll enough to get his legs beneath him and was awkwardly trying to stand upright. This was made difficult by his sudden lack of arms, but even now I could see meaty protrusions starting to work their way out of the clean cuts through his shoulders, as his innate regeneration kicked in. There was a loud tear and his pants suddenly sunk to the ground as his size increased again. The toes of his enlarged feet were already beginning to elongate into sharp talons.  
  
" **Oouu...** " he rumbled, voice slurred and distorted. There were several audible pops and then with a clatter his metal mask fell from his face to hit the ground. His jaw had elongated into a sort of segmented snout, splitting into the start of four equal sections with increasingly pointed teeth. The red orange flames cloaking him had brightened into a sulfurous yellow. I guess he looked vaguely draconic in a weird sci-fi/high fantasy fusion sort of way.  
  
As he struggled to regain his balance, he was watching me with an intense cautiousness, waiting for his arms to regenerate. Or rather, his eyes seem to be flickering between my face and something directly over my right shoulder. I turned part way to see what had his attention and found a black sphere about the size of a baseball hovering less than two feet from my face in the air behind me. It was black in an "absolute darkness" sort of way, and even around it there was a halo where the light of the street lamps seemed to be dimmed by passing through. Wisps of icy mist were forming in the air around it, swirling in elliptical patterns before escaping the orb's area of influence to freeze a slowly expanding area of the damp street around me.  
  
As I studied the construct, I gradually became aware that I could sense it in a much more direct way than simply looking at it. Like the sense of a third hand I never knew I had, I could instinctually tell the position of the sphere in the space around me, its dimensions, and its shape. I mentally flexed my fingers around it and the shape morphed, squeezed out into an elongated thin elliptical rod. With another thought, the elongated rod slowly descended to the ground and then sank straight into it without resistance.  
  
Confused curiosity distracted me from my current situation as I forced the black _thing_ to slowly carve a circle in the street around where I stood. As it moved through the solid asphalt, leaving an empty furrow behind it, I sensed that its total "value" was decreasing as it moved. Raising it from the ground, the decrease slowed to a trickle but didn't stop completely.  
  
Distracted as I was, I failed to notice when Lung's new arms finished regenerating, fully covered in silver scales now and with fingers that tapered down into sharp talons. Intent to take me by surprise he charged, forgoing brute force for a directed stab of incredibly sharp digits directly at my throat. It was the most effective attack on me so far, but even that wasn't saying much. His claws didn't get more than half a centimeter into my skin before they were deflected off to the side and behind me, shaving off a thin strip of skin.  
  
Suddenly reminded of the fight I was in, I began to turn back to face him, noticing the way he stumbled with the sudden loss of traction on my neck. Then, he literally exploded. A super hot white flame burst from every inch of his skin, superheating the air around him and causing it to explode out in a powerful shockwave in every direction. The force was enough to make me wobble slightly to the side, even as it tore out great gouges from the street around us, but it to me it felt like no more than being hit by a small wave while standing in the ocean.  
  
Before I was even fully turned, I decided to make use of my new black _thing_ and brought it to bear in the air behind me. It snapped into alignment, one of its pointed ends aimed right at Lung's chest, and shot forwards. In a display of surprising agility for his size, Lung dropped to the ground and rolled forwards, just barely dodging my quick projectile. It continued on, piercing deep into the ground before I stopped it, instantly arresting its momentum, and pulling it back to the surface.  
  
It broke into the air just as Lung got to his feet in a low crouch, a ball of bright yellow flames appearing in each hand. With a quick visualization, the black rod began to spin, rapidly becoming a whirling saw blade like disk. I shot it towards him horizontally and in response, he hurled the flame ball in his left hand at the disk while he simultaneously dove to the side, throwing the right one directly at me.  
  
Instinctually, my right arm came up to protect my face and the dense ball of flame broke over it, flaring out to consume my whole body in an inferno. The fire obscured my sight, but I could still sense my black projection. When it impacted the ball of dense flame sent to meet it, there was no expanding explosion this time. Instead, I felt the two cancel each other out. The flame rapidly vanished, leaving only a miniscule portion of the _Dark Stuff_ left over. It seemed to lose cohesion and burst apart, unleashing a frigid wave of air on the surrounding area that snuffed out the fire blast surrounding me.  
  
With my sight restored, I was just in time to see Lung charging towards me, a roar of challenge echoing through the night, before he was on top of me. He lashed out relentlessly, throwing strike after strike into whatever part of my body he could line up a shot on. Sometimes I would be hit with a fist or a palm, punctuated by loud cracks as the impacts transmitted to the pavement beneath me. Others, his strikes took on an air of finesse and he attacked with raking or stabbing claws. He was a whirlwind of motion, attacking over and over but never leaving his limbs extended for long. When his claws struck, I felt small divots dug out of my skin, but there was no pain, and shortly after the warmth within me began to fill them in, smoothing out the blemishes.  
  
I quickly got sick of being treated like a glorified punching bag and moved to deliver my response. Focusing on my body, instead of a slow spread this time the warmth surged within me, accompanied by a soothing cold that seemed to seep into my bones and give my body structure. I took an aggressive step forwards between his swinging arms and threw out both my hands like I was trying to push him away.  
  
Lung **flew** away from me, accompanied by the sound of cracking asphalt where my leading foot had slammed down. Almost immediately, he impacted with the stone facade of a rundown tenement at a very shallow angle, cratering the masonry and deflecting into an uncontrolled spin on a path almost parallel with the street. Shortly after, his flight was interrupted as one of his whirling limbs caught on a steel beam supporting the skeleton of what once had been an industrial warehouse. It diverted his trajectory enough to send him crashing down into the concrete floor of what was once the warehouse's basement before the first floor was stripped, and sent him ricocheting into the foundation.  
  
With a thunderous crash, a large cloud of grey dust and rubble was thrown into the air, obscuring Lung from sight. With a shriek of protesting metal, the beam he had impacted on his way in toppled over, sending the rest of the skeleton structure into a cacophony of protesting groans. Finally, with a rumbling crash, a quarter of the skeleton's roof closest to the impacted beam gave into the stress, collapsing in on itself and causing the dust cloud to grow even larger.  
  
Back on the street, I clenched my fists as I started to tremble. That "push" had seemed to drain a decent portion of the warmth from my body, leaving the newly noticed cold decidedly in the majority. It felt strange: uncomfortable without the excess of the warmth. In addition, I had a strange feeling of weightlessness that set my stomach metaphorically tumbling. No wait, I actually was tumbling. Somehow I had started to float into the air. Only, I wasn't just floating. My speed was gradually increasing as I went straight up. I was uncontrollably accelerating away from the ground. In other words, I was "falling" towards the sky.  
  
Images of me drifting aimlessly through space, forced into eternal solitude by my inability to die flashed through my mind and I panicked. Throwing my arms out, I focused on the _cold_ inside of me and _pushed._ Immediately, the same black _stuff_ that had made up my orb from before began to flow out of my hands, and it coalesced into a steadily growing amorphous blob in front of me. Gradually, the sensation of cold receded, but my ascent didn't begin to slow until finally the warmth once again overtook the remaining cold. I slowed to a stop and then began to fall back towards the ground, but still refused to stop pushing the cold out of myself. In addition, I tried to focus on what I had done when I pushed Lung to summon more warmth, and thankfully it worked.  
  
I had already been several hundred feet up in the air by the time I managed to reverse my unwanted ascent. Needless to say, when I hit the ground I made another addition to Lung's and my work to destroy the road. Rolling over in my new crater, I flopped limply onto my back to stare up at the mass of black _stuff_ above me. It was steadily smoothing out into a perfect sphere and its size was easily comparable to a minivan.  
  
A burst of light off to my right jarred me from my empty study of the black depths of the sphere. I sat up slowly. Not because I was in any pain, I simply couldn't be bothered to move any faster at the moment. Lung appeared to have recovered enough from his landing to begin melting his way out of the pile of rubble he was trapped under. I fixed him with a blank stare and watched as he gradually worked his way out from the molten rock and slag.  
  
Operating on autopilot, I extended my right arm and spread my hand like I was trying to grab something. In response, the massive black sphere moved in front of me and began to flatten out into an enormous, thick sheet. I caught Lung's disgusting maw hanging open in shock an instant before he was obscured from my sight by the growing swath of blackness, and idly wondered to myself when I had started taking this fight so seriously.  
  
With a single gesture, the sheet shot out ahead of me towards the area of the skeleton warehouse and Lung. It was an unstoppable wall of destruction. Any surface it touched or passed through simply vanished, as though it had simply been deleted from reality. As the matter in its path was vanished away, so too did the blackness' total "mass" gradually decrease in a harmony of mutual annihilation. On the surrounding buildings, I saw the glow of a bright flash of light, but if it was an explosion, the sound could not escape the embrace of my unstoppable force.  
  
With a soft 'whump,' the rectangle of annihilation carved a smooth hole deep into the ground where the warehouse skeleton had once stood. When it finally vanished, the hole it left behind was as monumental in its depth as it was outstanding in it's perfectly squared corners. In a detached sort of way, I realized that I had probably just killed Lung: deleted him from the very face of the Earth. A crash across the street from the warehouse proved that realization incorrect, when I turned to see Lung tumbling from a crumbling hole in the side of a brick factory.  
  
When he hit the ground, he rolled and his legs waved up into the air wildly, followed by what appeared to be a serpentine tail. I noticed that the normally silver scales of his bottom half had all been charred black. Looking back to the hole where he had only moments ago been, I remembered the flash of light and wondered whether or not he had propelled himself with an impromptu explosion.  
  
Lung leapt to his feet, taking only a moment to gawk at the hole I had made before turning to face me and tensing like a cornered beast. I turned my palm to face the sky and spread my fingers. Above my hand a swirling mass began to form. It separated into two distinct spheres which began to slowly orbit one another even as they grew. One was made of the already familiar blackness, but the second was made of something new.  
  
It glowed a brilliantly pure white, just like the hottest flames I had seen Lung use earlier in the fight. Around me, some of the hoarfrost left behind by my previous uses of the black _stuff_ began to melt away. I didn't have long to take in this newest curiosity, as a flutter of movement in front of me caught my attention.  
  
I looked up to see Lung turning away from me. His head snapped to the side to give the massive hole I'd made one final look before he took off, running away from me as fast as he could manage. He leapt, digging his claws into the side of a building and then cleared it with a single push. I took a step forward, ready to pursue him when suddenly what I was doing began to catch up to me.  
  
I had very nearly just **killed** Lung. If he had been just a second slower, he would have been dead and it would have been my fault. Why had I done that? Why had I lashed out so relentlessly? I wanted to kill myself, not anyone else; and yet here I was, standing in the ruins of a battle zone I had been partly responsible for, taking in the aftermath of my clearly lethal attacks.  
  
**What the fuck was wrong with me?!**  
  
Trembling, my hands came up to cover my face as my breathing sped up to panicked gasps. The strength left me and I toppled to my knees, doubling over until my forehead hit the ground. My fingers clawed their way up to tear at my hair and I let out a hysteric, screaming cry.  
  
The despair I had felt before was shoved to the side, overwhelmed by a titanic sense of revulsion and self loathing. I had been trying to murder someone in cold blood. I had had a number of chances to deescalate: to slow down and walk away, but I didn't. I just kept pushing forward relentlessly.  
  
My desire for an end was suddenly no longer a want, it was a desperate need. I had actively tried to kill another human. No, I didn't have the right to think of myself as human anymore. I was nothing more than a monster.  
  
Thoughts of the black _stuff_ that I had tried to use to **murder** lung filled my mind, giving me one final hope. I snapped upright, hands falling to my sides as I stared up at the black orb that twirled menacingly above me. This thing could annihilate whatever it touched, erasing it completely without a trace. If anything could kill me, certainly this could.  
  
Without a second thought, the orbiting spheres separated: the white one drawing away from me as the black one drew itself out into the same spear like rod I had tried to use on Lung before. Without another thought, the spear of annihilation snapped into orientation, pointed directly at my forehead. As the tears began to trail down my cheeks, the first to come since the accident, I thought of my mother and father. If there were an afterlife, I dearly hoped I wouldn't end up in the same place as them. Not after what I had tried to do. Not after what I had become.  
  
"I'm so sorry." I whispered into the night.  
  
" **Wait, stop!** " the sudden shrill feminine cry was not enough to dissuade me. Without waiting another second, I closed my eyes and the spear accelerated for my head.  
  
Only to vanish into my skin without leaving a mark.  
  
My hands curled into fists at my side. "Of course not." I mumbled to no one, opening my eyes and trying to blink away tears that wouldn't stop.  
  
I never felt the impact of a large beast hitting the ground less than fifty feet away, nor heard the frantic slap of sneakers on pavement as a blonde girl desperately sprinted towards me.  
  
"Of course not." I said again, my voice cracking as I cursed the hell that was my life. A sudden impact with my side managed to somehow sway me more than Lung ever had, as a petite girl dressed in purple and black practically tackled me in her desperation to wrap me in her arms.  
  
"You're not alone! You. Are. Not. Alone. I won't **let** you be alone!" Absently, I wondered why she was crying too. Her fists curled into my sweatshirt and she tugged at it frantically, trying and failing to shake me.  
  
"Look at me! Look-" She pushed her way into my lap, straddling my legs and clamping her hands down on either side of my head. Her blonde hair was in disarray, some of it caught on the edges of the small domino mask she wore around her eyes. "At. Me. No matter what you think, even if you can't believe me now, you have value. Your parents gave birth to you and raised you with love so that you could have a chance at a future. No matter what happened, they would have always wanted for you to live, to have a chance to be happy."  
  
"I don't deserve that." I interrupted in a broken whisper. Her mouth pressed into a tight line in response.  
  
"Fine. If you insist on giving away your life, then I'll take it." I blinked at her, uncomprehending.  
  
"Wha-"  
  
"I said I'll take it. You're giving it away right? So then it's no problem. I'll take it and do whatever I want with it." Fumbling slightly, she stood up and attempted to pull me up with her by my sweatshirt. Finding that she couldn't she frowned slightly. "Stand up." I could only blink up at her, lost as I was in this turn of events. "You're mine now, so stand. Up!" She heaved, and this time I obliged, rising with her pull. She faltered slightly, one arm pin wheeling as the other clutched at my sweatshirt to help her keep her balance.  
  
Once she had recovered, she quickly unclasped one of the pouches on her belt and pulled out a bundle of cloth. Stepping closer to me, she reached up and immediately began wiping down my face, cleaning away the tears that had stopped in my bafflement, completely ignoring her own. I fidgeted, trying to pull away from her.  
  
"Stay still." She ordered me. Without conscious thought I felt myself freeze. After a minute, she appeared to be satisfied and stepped back with a nod. "Good." She said, more to herself than to me, before stepping up to me and grabbing me by the wrist. "Now, suck _that_ back up and let's go. Armsmaster will be here soon so we don't want to stick around." She pointed off to the side where the white orb was still hovering. Mindlessly, I pulled it back to myself, and it too vanished into the surface of my skin.  
  
"W-wait, wha-"  
  
"I said let's go!"  
  
As I let myself get pulled away, over towards the minivan sized monster I was only just noticing, I couldn't help but wonder:  
  
_What the hell is going on?!_  



	3. 1.2

1.2  
  
We had hardly taken three steps before the blond girl abruptly stopped walking. Spinning on one heel, she turned to stare down at where her small hand managed to completely encircle my uncomfortably skinny wrist. With a focused expression, she began to pull and push at my arm, attempting to prod it in various directions without much success.  
  
While she was in the process of performing her impromptu study on my limb, I noticed two more large monsters join the first in the street ahead of me. They each bore riders: a solid looking man wearing black leathers and a motorcycle helmet with a stylized skull visor on the first, and a pair comprised of a tall androgynous sort of individual wearing what appeared to be a Renaissance faire style costume and a butch looking girl in plain street clothes and a cheap looking plastic dog mask concealing her face on the second. They were all watching me cautiously, like I was some sort of wild animal that had stumbled into someone's backyard and couldn't get out.  
  
"Tattletale," the big guy wearing the black leathers called out. His deep voice, muffled as it was by his helmet, managed to convey a tone of cautious worry. He was afraid of me. Afraid of this girl, Tattletale, being close to me. Afraid of what I might do to her. It hurt, but the worst part was I couldn't even think that he was wrong for being afraid. After what I had almost done to Lung, I deserved to be treated like a monster. "Is everything alright?" With an aggravated huff, the girl now identified as Tattletale whirled on him.  
  
"I'm fine Grue." She snapped. "I'm not the one having the _worst day of my life_ , so if you could just shut up for a second..." She trailed off, turning back to my arm and taking it in two hands before apparently trying to shake it with all of her strength. I swayed a bit, very slowly back and forth, but not more than half an inch in each direction. Eventually, she let go, putting both hands on her hips and turning to look contemplatively at the large four legged monsters.  
  
"This isn't going to work." It was an absent declaration, not directed at anyone in particular. Turning back to me, she grabbed my wrist again and began to march off in the opposite direction. "Your body resists the application of outside force so riding on the dogs at the moment is a no-go. We'll head out on foot." When I hesitated, she stopped walking again and turned to wave the cloth still in her hand at her companions.  
  
"You guys go on ahead without me. Lung got spooked pretty good so he won't be trying anything, at least for the rest of the night." The man in the modified biker outfit reached a hand out like he was going to say something to stop her, but Tattletale interrupted him. "I'll be fine. We'll keep to the alleys and I'll message you when I get home, safe and sound." She tugged gently on my arm again, turning to face me directly as her expression smoothed out into what seemed like a genuinely warm smile. "Let's go." Her voice, a tender mixture of caring and sad, caused my feeble resistance to bleed out of me. With a wordless nod, my head bowed forwards and I followed along, letting her steer me into the shadows of a nearby alley.  
  
For awhile, we walked in silence: Tattletale dabbing at her face with the cloth like I'd seen other girls at school do when they were trying not to smear their makeup, as I steadfastly studied the filthy pavement of Brockton Bay's alleys. She led us on a twisting route through the grimy thoroughfares of the Dock's underbelly. Whenever we reached a fork or an intersection, she would look both ways before seeming to arbitrarily pick a direction and continuing on.  
  
I was expecting to see a shady individual or two as we crossed from one alleyway to the next, but our journey passed completely uninterrupted. I could hear the occasional car pass by a street over, and once or twice a raucous group of night-goers could be heard laughing just a bit too loudly to be polite in the distance, but no one came even remotely close to us. I found myself wondering if it was happenstance or if just maybe Tattletale was trying to take me somewhere secluded to do who knows what to me.  
  
Not that my safety was really that much of a concern to me at this point. Even if I did have my own personal well being in mind, I was coming to believe that there wasn't anything in the entire city that could hurt me: physically at least. I didn't think my brutish durability extended to my emotional resilience, but I had already pretty much hit rock bottom so who knew. With how cruel the world was turning out to be, it wouldn't surprise me if new and somehow progressively worse torments continued to be thrown my way.  
  
"You really saved us back there, you know?" Tattletale's question was such a sudden break in the silence of our quiet shuffle through the alleyways, that I flinched sideways stumbling into a trashcan, crumpling in the side and knocking it over. It bounced off the brickwork of the adjacent building and fell to the ground with a loud metallic clatter. Stooping low, I hurried in an effort to set it back upright, but Tattletale seemed to ignore it entirely and simply continued on ahead. Not wanting to pull her off balance by stopping, I continued walking in my bowed posture and fumbled the bin a few times. I had almost gotten it standing, when I ran out of slack in our arms and was pulled out of reach, the bin wobbled a few times before it tipped over to rest at an angle against the building.  
  
"Ah, um..." Sparing the bin one final look, I turned back ahead to glance at Tattletale, finding her still resolutely watching the alleys ahead of us, before turning my attention back to the space between our feet. "Sorry. I uh-"  
  
"Why are you apologizing?" She rounded on me, turning to face me even as she continued to walk backwards through the dark alley littered with debris. Adjusting her hold on my wrist, she brought up her other hand as well, circling my own with both of hers before giving me a few gentle pats. "I'm thanking you, not accusing you of anything. Lung was actually going out to look for my group and me tonight, looking for some payback. We would have had a lot of trouble dealing with him, so I'm really grateful that you showed up when you did."  
  
I pointedly avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the alleyway behind her and the numerous upcoming obstacles. We were approaching a haphazard pile of what looked like leftover plywood from some construction project. I motioned with my free hand, pointing behind her.  
  
"Ah hey, watch-" It seemed Tattletale was more than capable of walking backwards without my warnings, as she effortlessly stepped to the side and over any stray boards that were sticking into the middle of the alley. I blinked in surprise, looking up to meet her gaze to find her fixing me with a knowing look and a patient sort of smile. "Um, you're welcome. I guess." I lowered my head again, focusing on where her hands wrapped around my own. Her nails seemed clean and cared for, which was odd for someone who frequented the Docks.  
  
As we lapsed back into silence, her vigilant study of my face began to make me a bit uncomfortable. Mentally scrabbling for something to say, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  
  
"Was it alright to leave them like that?" Even as I began to fret over how vague that question had sounded, Tattletale caught my meaning without delay and answered.  
  
"Yeah, it's no problem. The only thing we had planned for tonight was figuring out a way not to get burnt to a crisp by Lung. Thanks to your timely interference, the rest of my night has been cleared up to focus on you." I felt an odd sense of foreboding fill me with that statement, but I soldiered on ahead anyway, grasping at conversational straws.  
  
"Er, why was Lung looking for you and your," I paused, glancing up as I searched for the right word. "Friends?" Her grin turned a bit mischievous.  
  
"My 'friends' and I robbed his casino here in the Bay. We made off with quite a bit too, making his people look pretty bad in the process. He wanted to pay us back for that as well as to send a message to anyone else who might get some big ideas." Her head titled to the side in a playfully expectant gesture as she waited for the obvious follow up question.  
  
"You're a villain?" Her grin grew and I had a moment where I felt like I was a mouse under the watchful eye of a playful cat before it relaxed into something closer to bemusement.  
  
"Sure, but not the kind you're used to here in Brockton. We're more the friendly neighborhood bandit type, than the murderous drug-pushing bigots. Most of our escapades have involved hitting the other gangs' storehouses for loot and mucking up their shadier operations. I won't say we're completely innocent, but the Undersiders are closer to a greedy take on Robin Hood than a racially oriented mob organization."  
  
"Huh." I offered lamely, trying to process that idea with what I knew of the Bay's seedier groups. The ABB, Lung's pan-Asian exclusive gang was one of two major powers fighting for control over territory in Brockton Bay. The other was the Empire 88: a white supremacist group that talked about "fixing" the problems in the city by "cleansing it at the source," a mission statement that culminated in harassing and assaulting minorities in an attempt to scare them off. Both groups had a few points in common: they each took and then fought over chunks of territory in the city, constantly fighting to expand and control more, they each set up criminal rackets and subsequently extorted the people unfortunate enough to live in their territory for "protection" money, and they each made and sold all manner of drugs and other illegal substances that they could get their hands on. When you looked at it that way, a group of self-proclaimed bandits that stole primarily from groups that profited at the expense of others, seemed pretty tame in comparison.  
  
"Why?" I asked, my bafflement coloring my tone. Surely there were easier ways to make money than picking at criminal empires that relied on dangerous and often murderously violent parahumans to make up the brunt of their muscle. Lung and the ABB notwithstanding, the Empire 88 boasted the largest number of parahumans in one group in the entire city, beating out even the Protectorate's government organized hero team in this area. It seemed like making enemies of them was just looking for trouble.  
  
"Why antagonize dangerous individuals, or why be a villain period?" Tattletale asked to clarify, still walking backwards as we stepped out of an alley and into the street. When I shrugged, she continued, addressing both questions at once. "For a number of different reasons. People, heroes and villains included, aren't so black and white. Being a hero doesn't automatically make you a good person, and you don't have to be an amoral psychopath to be a villain. Most of us are just ordinary people who suddenly got powers they didn't ask for."  
  
As we stepped off the street and into the shadows of the next alley, Tattletale took a moment to glance around us before quickly guiding me to the doorway of a building and slipping inside, pulling me with her. The interior gave the impression of a remodeling project that had been long abandoned. There was no drywall or sheetrock on most of the walls, so the framework, pipes and wiring were all visible. The power was still on, as evidenced by a single hanging light shining on a pile of wooden beams, but most of the fixtures lacked working bulbs. The whole place smelled like dust but somewhat surprisingly I saw none on the floor or any of the piles of building supplies that were haphazardly strewn around.  
  
Tattletale slid the door shut behind me and then finally released my hand. As she made her way over to the pile of wood, I stared down at my open palm in the dim light. Before, if anyone held my hand for any length of time, my palm would have become a sweaty uncomfortable mess. Now though, with my sudden distinct lack of concern with temperature, there was no discernible difference. I suppose saving me from awkward encounters was at least one good point in favor of my power.  
  
Tattletale continued her explanation as she climbed onto the stack of wood, using it as a stepstool to let her reach up into the rafters. "Think of it this way. The whole heroes versus villains situation, is like a high stakes game of cops and robbers. Now, it's closer to a full contact sports competition than schoolyard fun, but the analogy still stands." Fishing around in a hidden cove created by several beams in the ceiling, Tattletale pulled out a discreet blue duffle bag. Dropping it down on the pile of wood, she hopped off and zipped it open before shuffling around inside.  
  
"Villains like me go out, do a little corporate espionage, maybe the clichéd thing and rob a bank, and in return the protectorate sends out some heroes to stop us." Tattletale fished out a few bundles from the bag: clothes, I belatedly realized as she unfolded them to lay out on top of it. Reaching behind herself, she unzipped a portion of her purple and black bodysuit and began to strip out of it. She didn't seem to be particularly phased by stripping in front of me, but I certainly felt myself getting embarrassed for her. I flushed, (or at least I think I flushed: it was hard to tell with the changes to my body) and turned away to stare at the door frame we had entered through.  
  
"They end up finding us, we squabble and butt heads for a bit, and then in the end we run away, cutting our losses and hoarding our spoils. The protectorate gets to make an announcement about the battle, say they ran us off before too much was lost, and the people at home watching the news all cheer.  
  
"You see, the heroes **need** villains like the Undersiders or even the incompetent duo, Uber and Leet, around. People watch and follow news about sports for the competition. 'My team did better than your team.' 'A new player just got added to that team.' 'This team is quickly rising up the leader boards.' Without the competition, things get boring, and the Protectorate wants to keep people interested in what they're doing: following the news they release, buying the hero merchandise, believing in how much good is being done. They're sponsored by the government, so without the support of the voters, their budgets will start to dry up. Without us family friendly, PG-13 rated villains, the amount of material they can share with the public shrinks dramatically.  
  
"People aren't going to be inspired by news of the heroes fighting the Empire and not really getting anything out of it. Hearing about Lung being allowed to do whatever he likes thanks to how scary he gets doesn't make the public feel safe. Fortunately, there's no shortage of us more or less ordinary people suddenly getting powers that go looking for a few quick thrills. It's as easy as making yourself a fake persona, putting together a silly costume to run around in, adopting a pseudonym, and then bam: nights full of adventure are just around the corner."  
  
A loud zip interrupted Tattletale's explanation and I glanced over my shoulder to find her fully clothed in close fitting jeans, a blouse, and a trendy looking knitted sweater. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and her small mask was nowhere to be seen as she rubbed at her face with the same cloth as before.  
  
"Then, at the end of the night, each side takes their bruises and heads home. The instant the masks and costumes come off, suddenly everyone has become no more than normal people again. We don't go fishing for other people's identities, we don't make use of the identities we may know, and as the sun rises we judiciously ignore each other to go about our normal lives. We've had our fun, maybe made a little bit of money, and the next time the itch comes around we're free to go back out and do it all again. The Protectorate gets to brag about their little victories, drum up public support, and then later on they're better equipped to fight the **real** bad guys like the Slaughterhouse 9 or the Endbringers."  
  
Pulling a compact out of a pouch on the front of the duffle bag, Tattletale opened it and used the mirror inside to inspect her face. Finding her appearance satisfactory, she nodded to herself and returned the compact to the bag along with the cloth. Turning to face me, she smiled and for the first time I saw the girl beneath the mask.  
  
She was pretty, in an average sort of way. She wasn't the type that would have every guy on the street swooning in her wake, nor was she the sort that other girls would scoff at. She was simply pretty, in an understated and underappreciated sort of way. I felt myself wilt at the unconscious mental comparisons I made between us.  
  
I had never truly been satisfied with the way I looked. The one feature that I'd had any amount of pride for was my hair. Long and curly as it was, it was my defining feminine feature for a face with a too wide mouth accented by dorky glasses and a body that was too tall for my proportions, making me feel like I looked similar to a standing frog.  
  
My spiral into self-deprecation was cut short as Lisa stepped up to wrap her arms around me. I felt one hand slowly rub up and down my back as she leaned forwards to rest her forehead on my shoulder.  
  
"You don't give yourself enough credit." Her voice was soft and warm and resonated with so much sincerity that my contradicting response died in my throat. Instead, I settled for awkwardly looking away to study the light hanging from the ceiling behind her. She held the hug for what felt like minutes, content to just slowly rub my back while I fidgeted. In spite of how awkward it was for me at first, gradually, I started to relax into it, almost hypnotized by the soothing motions. Eventually, she pulled away and smiled up at me, taking both of my hands in hers in the process.  
  
"Well, I think a proper introduction is now in order. My name's Lisa." She paused, tilting her head to the side expectantly.  
  
"Uh, Taylor." I replied lamely. Her smile brightened anyway, as though learning my name had been the highlight of her night.  
  
"Taylor, huh? I'm so glad I was able to meet you tonight Taylor." One corner of her mouth pulled higher and her warm smile morphed into a cheeky grin. "It must've been fate that led us together." I suddenly felt the embarrassment creeping back into my cheeks. Apparently satisfied with my reaction, Lisa nodded to herself again before dropping one of my hands and turning, using her grip on the other to pull me along again. I obliged and shuffled along behind her.  
  
"Let's be on our way then. I'd like to at least be home before the sun comes up." We crossed the interior of the building to another door on a wall perpendicular to the one we had entered through. Lisa grabbed the blue duffle bag as we passed the pile of wood and slung it over her shoulder.  
  
The door let out onto what seemed to be a small gravel driveway on the side of the building. To our right it cut straight through the lot to connect with the alleyway that bisected the block, and to our left it led to the street. After shutting the door behind us, Lisa glanced around once more before leading us towards the street. We set off down the sidewalk, and in the distance ahead of us I could see the sparkling silhouettes of the skyscrapers that stood vigil over Brockton Bay's downtown area.  
  
Downtown was one of the few areas of the Bay still thriving since the shipping industry had dried up. Apparently, a few corporations called the Bay home, including the pharmaceutical company named Medhall, and they along with the tourism brought in by the PRT building were enough to keep the area living. It was a good thing too, because without them I suspect the entire city would have wound up like the Docks: broken down, abandoned, and reclaimed by the homeless, drug addicted, and gangs.  
  
"Where are we going?" I asked quietly, curiosity overcoming my intense desire to crawl into a hole and hide, as I watched the tall structures looming in the distance.  
  
"Back to my apartment. Well, one of them anyway." Lisa replied offhandedly, as though having multiple apartments in a struggling city like Brockton Bay was an ordinary occurrence. She glanced back at me. "Unless you have somewhere else you'd rather go. I don't mean to imply anything, but you don't look like you have anywhere you particularly care to go back to at the moment."  
  
_No, I suppose I don't._ I thought to myself as I considered her subtle probe. The child services representative had made it clear that I couldn't just go back to my old home, not without an adult when I was still fifteen. I was supposed to be staying with Kurt and Lacey, but after I fled following a blatant suicide attempt, returning was out of the question for the foreseeable future. I'd much rather put my life in the hands of a seemingly well meaning girl I'd just met, than be forced to return there and face the uncomfortable questions and judging stares.  
  
Oh god, I wonder if they called the police. They could be looking for me right now. What should I do?  
  
"Is there anyone you'd like to call?" Lisa asked, interrupting my mounting panic. She had turned back to face ahead, granting me at least a small illusion of privacy. I considered her proposal, considered calling Kurt and Lacey to let them know I was alright. They had been kind enough to reach out to me and accept me into their home. The least I could do is let them know I was alright, that they could stop looking for me for now. Unfortunately, I didn't know their telephone number, and dad had gotten rid of all cell phones from our household after one contributed to mom's accident, so it wasn't like I had it saved in an address book or something.  
  
"I don't know their number." I mumbled in response. Humming in thought, Lisa pulled out her cell phone.  
  
"Names?"  
  
"Um, Kurt and Lacey Dawkins." Lisa dialed something into her phone and held it up to her ear. As she waited for an answer, I began to fidget, feeling a nagging desire to clarify my situation, but unsure how to go about it. Eventually I settled on the simple route. "I- I was supposed to be staying with them, but I kinda ran off, after..." She turned to give me a sympathetic smile before her eyes flicked to the side as her call seemed to connect.  
  
"Kurt Dawkins, please." Lisa annunciated clearly, followed by a short pause. "Yes, that's correct. Thank you." She turned back to halfway face me, pulling the phone a bit away from her ear in the process. "Do you want to talk to them?" A seed of dread blossomed in my stomach. I **should** be the one to talk to them, it wasn't fair of me not to, but I didn't think I could face them right now: not in person and not over the phone either. Thankfully, Lisa uprooted that seed before it had spread too far. "It's alright if you're not up for it, I don't mind taking care of things." I nodded, feeling both relieved and ashamed for taking the easy way out. For her part, Lisa flashed me the sympathetic smile that I was starting to grow accustomed to, and brought the phone back to her ear. There was another one to two minute long pause before she spoke again.  
  
"Is this Mrs. Dawkins? Yes hi, my name is Lisa Willbourn. I'm a friend of Taylors. Yes, she's with me now. She's fine physically, but she's been under a lot of stress lately and then all of a sudden this. I think she just needs some time to decompress and sort out her thoughts. We met up about an hour ago. I plan on taking her back to my house for awhile, if that's alright. I think with everything that's happened, she needs to be someplace familiar to her with friends staying close by incase she needs anything. Yes, she's here with me now. I don't know how much she would feel like talking, but if you'd like I can give her the phone for a bit. Sure, no problem."  
  
Lisa turned, shooting me an apologetic look before holding out the phone for me to take. I reached out slowly, like it might bite me if I wasn't careful, and felt my throat tighten with a sudden wave of anxiety. Gingerly, I took the phone and brought it to my ear.  
  
"Hello?" I choked out.  
  
"Taylor?! Oh thank God, we were so worried! You just took off without saying anything and we didn't know what to do. Are you alright? Is there anything you need to talk about? If there's anything at all we can do, just name it and we'll-"  
  
"Ah," I interrupted. Lacey cut off her tirade so quickly I could hear her teeth audibly click together over the phone. "I- I'm- I'm s-so sorry for..." Voice starting to crack, I stopped my attempt at an apology and stopped walking. I pulled my other hand away from Lisa and brought it up to cover my eyes. Lightly trembling, I simply stood there, struggling to maintain my composure over the phone. As the silence began to stretch, Lacey hurried to fill in the gap.  
  
"It's alright Taylor, you don't have to apologize. Kurt and I aren't mad, just worried about you. Are you- no, of course you're not okay, but you're safe right? Do you want to stay with your friend Lisa for a little while?" I hummed a shaky affirmative. When Lacey spoke again, I could hear the traces of tears slipping into her tone. "Alright. Okay, that's perfectly fine, so don't worry about a thing. Our door will be open and waiting for you whenever you feel up to coming back. For now, just focus on you. I'll talk to your case worker and sort out all the details so it won't be a problem. Just leave everything to me kiddo, and I'll-"  
  
I choked out a strangled sob as Lacey accidentally slipped and used my dad's pet nickname for me. The floodgates burst and tears started to stream freely down my face as I let myself collapse to my knees on the sidewalk. For her part, Lisa immediately knelt down in front of me and pulled my head forward to rest on her shoulder.  
  
"Oh shit, Taylor?! Taylor I- I'm so sorry, it just slipped and I- oh god..." Lacey's voice became muffled as she must have pulled the phone away from her mouth. There was a brief pause before she came back, audibly sniffing now. It just made me cry harder. "Just take as much time as you need Taylor. We'll keep in contact with Lisa to check up on you, and if you need anything at all, please don't hesitate to let us know. We promised to look after you and us Dawkinses don't go back on our promises, so just, hang in there."  
  
Sobbing on the sidewalk in the middle of the night, I held Lisa's cell phone out for her to take back. She obliged and cradled it in the nook of her neck between her shoulder and ear. She continued to talk on it for a short while, but the words were lost on me. My arms unconsciously slid around to Lisa's back, clutching at her sweater in my body's need to seek comfort. As I knelt there crying, my mind flashed back to the life I had lived and the precious people I'd lived it with: my dad, doing his best to stay strong for me and failing after mom died. Emma, my best friend turning on me to become a horrendous bully without prompting. Mom, dying in an accident, leaving dad and I reeling and alone.  
  
As I sobbed into Tattletales shoulder, I poured out everything in my heart: all of the anguish, all of the frustration, all of the longing. For the first time since directly after my mother's death, I just let all of my inner walls fall down and cried my despair for the world to hear.  
  
In books and television shows, after a moment like this the characters usually come out on the other side feeling refreshed and gaining a new wellspring of energy; but for me, I felt nothing of the sort. The only things I felt, were profound exhaustion, and consuming emptiness.


	4. 1.3

1.3  
  
I think in the back of my mind I must have shoehorned Lisa into the "spoiled rich girl" category of my social filing system: the kind of person you saw on T.V. that lived in gaudy penthouse suites and had a tendency to take in stray animals. That's why I was almost embarrassingly surprised when instead of arriving at a ritzy apartment complex in the heart of Downtown, our night time adventure ended in front of a modest brick apartment building on the border between Downtown and The Docks. It looked like the sort of building that originally had been used as an office complex or some other small business, but had been repurposed into living spaces.  
  
Some of my surprise must have shown on my face as Lisa gave me an impish little smirk and a mischievous wink before tapping in a code at the front entrance and unlocking the door. I felt my face heat up as I turned away in shame, reflexively crossing my arms and hunching in on myself. Here, Lisa had reached out to me and was generously taking me into her home and I was thinking all sorts of unflattering things about her. I mean, sure she may have admitted to being a villain and had probably done all sorts of morally questionable things, but she'd been nothing but nice to me so far. It wasn't fair of me to label her with all manner of rude and condescending stereotypes just because I was a little out of my element.  
  
"Hey!" I was startled out of my self-deprecating cycle when Lisa suddenly clapped her hands together in front of my face, drawing my attention to where she was holding the glass and metal door open with her waist, leaning forward to better fix me with her stern expression. "None of that now. I can guarantee with certainty that you're your own harshest critic, so enough with the needlessly complex and unforgiving self-reflection. Now, let's get inside, we're letting all of the heat out."  
  
With several mumbled apologies, I hurried into the front lobby of the building behind her. It was a pretty plain area with generically speckled white floor tiles and concrete walls and ceilings that tried and failed at being a warm cream color. On the left wall there was a solid wooden door labeled with a simple black sign that read maintenance and opposite it was a wooden bulletin board with a mismatched sea of colored paper pinned to it. One of those long black commercial entry mats was laid out onto the floor, thoroughly waterlogged and dirty, leading to an elevator and another wooden door with a small glass window labeled 'stairwell.'  
  
"Probably best to take the stairs for now." Lisa mused aloud as she made her way across the foyer, her shoes making audible squishing sounds as she walked over the poor defeated mat. As I slowly trudged along after her, I couldn't help but draw a parallel between me and it: walked over all day long, people continuing to wipe their shoes off on it even when it was obviously at its waterlogged limits. If it kept raining, who even knew how long it would be before it was finally allowed to dry out again.  
  
A hand clamped down around my nose.  
  
"Nuh uh-uh, what'd I say?" Lisa exclaimed into the silent foyer. "If you have time to be feeling sorry for the floor mat you should be worrying about what the evil lair I'm taking you to is like instead."  
  
_Evil lair? Really? In this boring little apartment building?  
  
_ Lisa raised her eyebrows at me and I suddenly felt embarrassed over my internal comments. She had a way of making you feel like she knew **exactly** what you were thinking. If she said it was an evil lair then who was I to doubt her. I mean, I guess a plain little apartment building could be the perfect place for an evil lair. Certainly no one would think it was one at first, second, or even third glance. It could be the perfect cover.  
  
Lisa let out a little amused sigh and let go of my nose, turning to hold the door open for me and began leading me up the stairs.  
  
We climbed three stories, judging on the number of doors we passed, before leaving the stairwell into a short hallway. The door opened into a boring little area with an uncomfortable looking bench, an ancient looking vending machine, and a grimy little garbage can before continuing on to a series of four doors, two to each side of the hallway almost directly across from each other. Pulling out a key, Lisa stopped at the first door on the left, unlocking it with a heavy mechanical clack before pushing it open and ushering me in.  
  
Lisa's "evil lair" was... actually pretty nice, in a clean, minimalist, modern chic sort of way. The front door opened into a short entry hall with a mat set aside for shoes. It widened a bit after that into an area that disappeared into a perpendicular hallway on the left and a long dark granite countertop that separated the entry way from the small kitchen area, complete with polished metal appliances, on the right. Finally, the entryway opened up into what was likely the largest portion of the apartment, the combined living room  & dining area.  
  
The floors were wood paneling painted a light grey-blue, broken up from the slightly darker grey walls by a white trim. A small rectangular black dining table helped provide some division between the living area and kitchen area and was surrounded by four black chairs with white upholstery. A large light and fluffy rug with a glass coffee table helped to give the living area a more inviting feeling. The rug was framed by a large, cushy looking black leather couch that occupied most of the far wall, and a matching black leather recliner to the left. Opposite the recliner on the right wall hung a flat screen television, framed on each side by two tall speakers, and by a cabinet underneath with another speaker and a number of other electronic system boxes on top.  
  
"Come on in and make yourself at home." Lisa invited as she slipped her shoes off on the front mat. "Just... no crazy energy balls inside, at least until we do some power testing to figure out exactly what they are." I felt a resurgence of shame and turned my attention to the floor. Of course Lisa would be uncomfortable having me in her home. I had clearly demonstrated before that I was dangerous and unstable. Anyone would be nervous with someone like that-  
  
A pair of hands clapped together on my cheeks. I looked up to find Lisa giving me a look of unreasonable patience.  
  
"That wasn't a personal dig Taylor. Powers in general can be a bit weird and temperamental. Until you practice a bit to figure out their limits and functionality, it's best to err on the side of caution, right?" I turned to look away from her again and I felt the pressure on my cheeks increase as Lisa leant forwards to keep her face in my line of sight. I imagined that if I hadn't become a weird invulnerable brute thing my face would have been comically squished together. " **Right?** " She pressed me again, giving me an encouraging little smile that in my head shouted _You're being entirely unreasonable so hurry up and stop worrying._  
  
I eventually nodded.  
  
"Good." She declared, straightening up and clapping her hands together as if to say 'That's that.' "First things first, I think after tonight's adventure you should take a shower." Her lips pursed up to one side as she looked me up and down. "Even if your skin has some weird selective non-stick properties now that keep you more or less clean, I think it's important to maintain these sorts of little routines." I blinked a few times as my mind flashed back to my inexplicable dryness after I'd climbed out from the bottom of the bay. "After that, if you feel like eating I can heat something up in the microwave. I'm not a great cook, but frozen dinners I can certainly manage."  
  
Lisa backed away a few steps and then cocked her head to the side expectantly. I stood around uselessly for a few moments before hurrying to crouch down and untie my sneakers... only to realize that I had never put any on when I'd run out of Kurt and Lacey's house earlier. Somehow feeling even more awkward than I already did, I stood back up and slowly trudged further into Lisa's apartment. She beamed up at me before turning to lead me down the hallway to the left.  
  
"The bathroom's the first door on the left here and if you'll wait just a second I'll grab some clean towels and get the water going." Lisa opened a thin wicker door on the right side of the hall revealing a small linen closet, and quickly fished out a fluffy white towel and a washcloth. Shutting the door, she then hurried across the hall to the opposite door and flicked on the light switch, revealing a modestly sized and very clean bathroom.  
  
It was all white tiles with black accents, and just screamed "average bathroom." The porcelain toilet sat on the left opposite a wooden cabinet with a sink set into the top. The wall opposite the door was taken up by a walk-in-shower with a sliding door. It had a handrail along the side and a little bench built into the wall opposite the showerhead.  
  
Lisa bustled into the room, placing the towel and washcloth down on the countertop before ducking into the cabinets underneath and pulling out a bottle of what was probably shampoo and a bar of soap. They had obviously never been used, as they were still wrapped in the plastic they came in. Ripping off the plastic and throwing it in a small garbage can next to the toilet, she hurried into the shower and set the hygiene supplies down on a little plastic shelf. Finally, she stepped back out but leaned in to dial on the knob controlling the water. After quickly hiking up her sleeve and reaching in to feel the water temperature and making a quick final adjustment, Lisa nodded to herself and stepped back around me.  
  
"So, go ahead and take your time scrubbing up and I'll dig out some pajamas for you to wear when you're done. You can just leave your clothes on the ground. I'll take care of them after you're done." With one final bright smile, she backed out of the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her.  
  
For a few minutes, I simply stood there listening to the sound of the water hit the tile of the shower floor. I was in a daze: just completely unable to make sense of the overwhelmingly dizzying series of events that had been this day. I looked down at the baggy grey sweatshirt I was wearing and for another two minutes, I tried to work up the energy to take it off. Giving up, I just slowly shuffled my way into the running shower and carefully sat down on the little built in bench. Leaning forwards, I rested my elbows on my knees and sank my face into my hands.  
  
The spray of water from the shower impacted with the back of my head and my shoulders in a steady, unrelenting rain. I had a vague sense that the water was probably warm, but differences in temperature were indistinct after the changes that had overtaken my body. I thought back to showers I'd taken in the past.  
  
They'd always been a therapeutic experience for me. I could climb in after a rough day at school and just close my eyes, luxuriating in the feel of the steady cascade of hot water washing over me and just forget all of my troubles for awhile. With the realization that showers would probably never feel the same again, the tears broke free of their invisible damn to pour out for what felt like the hundredth time today.  
  
I don't know how long I sat there, drowning in my own misery.  
  
I was dimly aware of the bathroom door opening again, but couldn't muster the energy to care. Lisa knelt down at my side, ignoring the way the water soaked into the knees of her jeans and the entirety of one side of her blouse. She reached out, taking hold of the bottom of my sweatshirt and began to pull it up off my torso.  
  
"Arms up." She ordered, her voice a calm neutral tone. Listlessly, I complied. In one motion she pulled my sweatshirt and undershirt up over my head and discarded them behind her. Another quick motion and my bra soon followed. "Stand up." I did, letting my head hang forwards as my hair dangled in a curtain around my face, streamers of water pouring off every cluster of curls. Lisa reached out and dexterously unfastened my jeans before pulling them and my underwear down to my ankles. "Right foot up." I raised my foot. "Now the left." So I did. "Okay, go ahead and sit back down." I returned to my seat.  
  
The next ten minutes passed by in an almost hypnotic blur. Lisa stepped fully into the shower, cutting off the stream of water with her body so she could properly massage a handful of shampoo into my scalp and work it through my hair. Eventually she stepped aside, allowing the water to reach me as she gently coaxed me to move my head in different directions. I numbly acknowledged the lack of stinging as the sudsy water flowed harmlessly over and into my eyes. The washcloth came next: Lisa carefully washing me from head to toe. I reflected on the irony of it: I was pretty much invulnerable and yet Lisa treated me with all the care of a collector cleaning a porcelain doll.  
  
Eventually the shower was over. Lisa quickly toweled me off before dressing me in a pair of fluffy blue pajamas.  
  
"I don't have any underwear in your size here, but I'll go out to pick some up tomorrow. Maybe I could go and grab some of your things from the Dawkins's house, if that's alright with you." I shrugged. It wasn't like I had any particular attachment to my own clothes. "Well, we'll see then." Lisa declared as she produced a brush from somewhere and began working through my hair. With how curly it was, I'd grown accustomed to the task of carefully working out the unavoidable knots following showers and rough nights of sleep. In spite of how long it took, I'd never really considered it a chore. I had always loved my hair: considered it my one defining feminine trait, the one thing I could be proud of.  
  
As Lisa brushed, the plastic bristles glided through my curls without resistance: smoothly pulling through them like a hand gliding over silk.  
  
When she was finally satisfied with the brushing, Lisa pulled my hair behind my ears and over my shoulders, and stepped around in front of me. She gathered up both of my hands between hers and then looked up to peer into my face directly. For a short time she stood there, her eyes ghosting back and forth, her mouth a neutral little line. Eventually, her lips turned up into a mirthless little smile and she coaxed me out of the bathroom behind her.  
  
She led me further down the hall, into the next door on the left. It was a bedroom, sparsely furnished with a queen sized bed, an end table with a little lamp and an electric radio-clock next to it, and a medium sized dresser opposite. One of the walls sported a pair of folding closet doors and the opposite one had a single window. Lisa led me up to the bed before letting go of my hands to lean over and peel back the blankets.  
  
"This'll be your room." She said as she straightened out the pillows. "For now, why don't you try to get some sleep and forget about everything for awhile." Wordlessly, I slowly climbed into the bed, and Lisa pulled the blankets up around my shoulders. "I know- uh... It's not going to be easy, but just- we'll take things one day at a time: keep putting one foot in front of the other, you know? Little steps. Maintaining little routines." I heard her quietly pad away from the bed, towards the door. "If you need anything, anything at all, I'll be out in the living room. Please, _please_ , don't hesitate to come out and ask. I'll be waiting there, just for you." Finally, with a quiet little 'goodnight,' Lisa clicked off the overhead light, and pulled the door almost all the way shut behind her.  
  
I tried to sleep. Really, I did. I followed all of the steps: putting my head to the pillow, closing my eyes, staying as still as possible, but sleep never came. My mind started to wander. The scene from inside dad's car began to play over and over again in my thoughts. I started to obsess over all of the decisions I had made before the accident: the decisions that led to getting into the car, to go to the mall, to buy a stupid, **meaningless** present...  
  
I sat up. Trying to force myself to think of something else, my thoughts drifted to the changes to my body. I realized I wasn't tired, not in the slightest. After a day like today, I should have been exhausted, shouldn't I? Even if I couldn't sleep, surely I should have felt **something**.  
  
Anything!  
  
I stood up.  
  
Slowly, as quietly as I could, I made my way out of the bedroom and down the hall. The living room was quiet with only faint clicks breaking up the silence. I found Lisa laying back in the recliner in the dark, her feet up and a blanket wrapped around her legs. She'd produced a laptop from somewhere and had it resting on her thighs as she scrolled and clicked her way through some website I didn't recognize. When I stopped at the border to the living room, she looked up and met my eyes. She closed her laptop and bit down on the edge of her lip, worrying at it as she gave me a quick look up and down.  
  
"Can't sleep?" She asked. I shook my head weakly. She leaned forwards, the footrest of the recliner retracting so she could place the laptop down on the coffee table and stand up. Patting the cushion of the leather couch, she beckoned me over with a smile. "Come here and sit down, I'll be right back."  
  
I slowly made my way over towards the couch as Lisa bustled past me, out of the living room and down the hall. Sinking into the thick cushions of the couch, I sat in silence, listening to the faint clack of thin wooden doors elsewhere in the apartment as she rustled through something. After a short wait, she hurried back into the room carrying a thick blanket and a few small pillows.  
  
"Have you ever tried meditation?" Lisa asked as she threw her gathered goods onto the couch next to me. I shook my head again as Lisa worked to slide one of the pillows in behind the small of my back. "Well," she continued as she placed another pillow down in my lap and threw the thick blanket over top, tucking it in around me. "I think it might be worth a shot." With the blanket tucked in, she stood up again and hurried over to the T.V. kneeling down to shift through the cabinets underneath it.  
  
"With meditation, it's best to pick something to focus on: maybe a word, maybe a phrase, maybe an idea, and just repeat it over and over. Think about that one thing to the exclusion of everything else." Eventually, Lisa found what she was looking for: a coiled black wire, which she promptly plugged into one of the boxes on top of the cabinet and began unraveling. "For you, hmm... does your power have a mental component?" As she reached her laptop, she dropped the remainder of the coil of wire, and plugged the other free end into a port on the side. "Like, maybe a weird sense or feeling in the back of your mind that wasn't there before?"  
  
I turned away to give her question some thought. Thinking back to my fight with Lung earlier, there were certainly a few things that fit what she was asking about. I had been able to sense the exact location and state of my orbs of _black stuff_ in the area around me, including the trickling drain as they slowly disappeared. Now that I thought about it, there was something else there too, prickling at the back of my mind even now. It felt like... pinpricks, maybe. Like the pins and needles you feel after having a limb fall asleep. They popped up in a continuous stream, exploding at the edge of my senses like tiny fireworks before fading into obscurity to be replaced by the subsequent waves. It was a constant static that I hadn't noticed until just now. I blinked a few times and looked up at Lisa. She gave me two thumbs up and an encouraging smile.  
  
"Yes that!" She exclaimed animatedly. "That's it exactly! For your meditation, you're going to focus on that feeling, that extra sense, and nothing else." She sat down on the edge of the recliner and opened up her laptop again, quickly clicking away at it. "Try to think about it in new ways and from different angles. Mentally pick it apart. See if there's anything new you can glean from it that you didn't notice before. See if it moves, grows, or shrinks. Er, try not to conjure up any of those spheres if you can, but don't really stress about it either. Just try to... zone out, I guess."  
  
With another click on her laptop, Lisa sat back in her recliner and gave me a warm smile as the sound of a steady rainstorm began to play out from the speakers on either side of the T.V. I glanced over at them before giving her another look, feeling slightly self-conscious about the whole thing. She just gave me another little encouraging thumbs up and pulled her laptop back into her lap before reclining again.  
  
With a little sigh, I closed my eyes and tried to sink back into the couch, getting comfortable. Internally, I focused on those little bursts of static. For awhile, I just "watched" them. Nothing really changed. As far as I could tell, they came in a continuous, undecipherable stream: numerous enough that I couldn't pick out any individual patterns to their appearance, and quickly enough to blend together into the background noise of my mind.  
  
I shifted my attention to the metaphorical edge of the burst area. Maybe there I'd be able to make out some details about the little pricking pinpoints. To my slight surprise, I could. I had thought the bursts were like fireworks, appearing suddenly and then fading out, but that wasn't true. They certainly appeared in something that could only be called a _burst_ but they didn't just disappear after that; the burst was just the most noticeable. The little firework sparks seemed to pool together, running like rain water around unseen dips and turns into distinct streams and flows. I followed them, doing my best to mentally trace out their paths, forwards and back from start to end, and end to start. Gradually, a discernible pictures started to form in my mind.  
  
The little flows of sparks swirled about and together, around a discernible shape before coming to rest into collective pools. The shape had a distinct central core that the majority of the sparks seemed to settle in. Externally, it was vaguely cylindrical, but internally they danced together to from impossible shapes. Infinitely extending, fractalized polyhedrals grew in ever expanding crystals, coming closer and closer together and yet never truly intersecting. From the main core, these fantastic and unrecognizable shapes branched out into four distinct protrusions, all fed with flows from the core, which in turn was fed by the collection of tiny pinprick explosions, so numerous that in spite of their infinitesimally small size they managed to fill an ever growing collective.  
  
I realized with sudden and absolute clarity, that I was looking at myself. This was my body now, this collection of impossible shapes, growing together in impossible ways, and fed by a seemingly limitless stream of sparks, each smaller than I could even conceptualize.  
  
I turned my attention back to the source: the cluster of constant fuzz, unending explosions, and unyielding flow. Tentatively, I poked at it with mental fingers: prodding at it in different ways attempting to invoke a reaction. Nothing happened, but I could feel a vague sense of... malleability. I closed my imaginary hands around it, and gently squeezed like you would a rubber stress. Again there was no change and the continuous stream of sparks was unimpeded by my ministrations. Finally, I pulled at the cluster, attempting to stretch it apart, to urge it larger.  
  
My mindscape **exploded**.  
  
The once tightly contained cluster of bursts blossomed out, stretching away from me in all directions. The steady flow of sparks spreading through my body slowed to a standstill and the sphere of sparks grew and grew, each individual spark stretching farther and farther apart. Soon the expansion slowed, and when the space between each spark became too great, it stopped entirely. A chill of pure awe ran through me as I gazed out in wonder at what the tight cluster of explosions had become.  
  
It was like looking at the night sky, only instead of stretching out above you, the infinite points of twinkling light wrapped around in every direction. I felt as though I was suspended within a sea of trillions of tiny sparkling stars, and even as my mind froze in wonder, the sparks continued their dance. What was once a fast torrential flow, with each spark in the stream moving too quick to follow, was now a slow and elegant dance across the heavens around me. The tiny pinpoints of light began a slow leisurely spiral through the dark expanse, orbiting around me like stars around the center of a galaxy and gradually growing closer. Except...  
  
They weren't getting closer. Each of the trillions of sparks that I had cast out around me had remained stationary, hanging precisely where they had been when they had stopped. The gradual inward spiral was being performed by an entirely new set of sparks, as though the ones I had cast out had all divided, leaving one behind as the second began a slow, lazy dance inward.  
  
And even as this new set of trillions of dancing sparks made their way across the void, another set appeared. Once again they originated at the sparks I had cast out around me and traced the same gradual spiral as the first duplicated ones in lazy paths around and towards me.  
  
All at once, I felt a rippling prickle in the vast expanse around me, like a trillion tiny needles forming a sphere and poking inwards at once. New sparks began to appear, haphazardly in the expanse between one and the next, and as though a switch had been thrown, the speed of the dance increased. More and more new sparks appeared in the void where previously there had been nothing. They popped into my perception at random and gradually began to move faster and faster. Like before, they came together in flows, drawn to one another just as they were drawn to me, but again I noticed something different. For every nine sparks that were drawn towards me, one seemed to spiral away. All at once I felt another wave of pricks and realization dawned on me.  
  
My seemingly endless sphere was still growing outward slowly, and for every inch it gained, a hundred new sparks appeared in every wave of pricks, and for every spark that appeared hanging in the expanse around me, ten more appeared in the void between them, and for every one hundred that appeared the speed of the attraction increased.  
  
It wasn't long before a new torrent was forming, sparks drawing together into new flows as quickly as they could appear. What had started as a lazy spiral quickly transformed into a torrential crashing cascade, and what I had felt in observant awe before twisted into overwhelmed panic.  
  
Too many. There were **far too many** sparks. It was like stepping from a pitch black room into a blinding spotlight, like sleeping in silence to being woken by a hundred million alarm clocks. My focus floundered, and like a taught rubber band suddenly released at one end, the sphere of endless sparks snapped back into me like an explosion in reverse.  
  
The sudden titanic implosion overwhelmed me. I was left reeling somewhere on the border between my mind and my body. The rate of growth of the fractalized polyhedral crystals increased so drastically that where before their expansion was a slow crawl, now they too seemed to flow like a torrent of water. I was overcome with a sudden surge of dizziness and nausea and euphoria and suddenly red was right and left was blue and...  
  
With a yelp, my eyes snapped open an instant before I toppled off Lisa's couch to land face first on the floor. For what felt like hours it was all I could manage just to lay there and suck in shallow, panicked gasps of air I didn't need, to stop a dizziness I didn't feel, but eventually it did pass. The endless spinning stopped and my senses returned to me.  
  
Holding my breath I craned my neck to look over my shoulder to see if Lisa had witnessed my episode. She wasn't moving and I felt another surge of panic that maybe something I had just done had hurt her.  
  
I jumped to my feet... or at least I tried too. Still wrapped up in the blanket as I was, my limbs caught on the fabric and it began to come apart with an audible tearing sound. Not wanting to completely destroy Lisa's property with my new found super-strength, I immediately aborted my struggles and flopped ineffectually back to the floor. Finally, I resumed my attempts to escape in a much more controlled fashion and managed to finally wriggle my way free.  
  
I leapt to my feet, whirling around to check if Lisa was okay, only to be brought up short by the sound of happily chirping birds. Blinking, I focused on her chest and found that it was steadily rising and falling with the slow breaths she was taking, and the way her head lolled to the side on the headrest, mouth cracked open and with an expression that wasn't unimaginable agony, I realized that she was just sleeping and that I had been out of it for far longer than I had thought.  
  
For awhile, I just stood around motionlessly, not really sure what to do. Eventually, I decided that it probably wasn't the best idea to fall asleep with a laptop turned on and balanced on your legs, and carefully moved to relocate it. I managed to do it without waking her up and placed it down on the coffee table. I reached out to shut it and glanced at the screen. Before she had fallen asleep, Lisa had been browsing through what I considered an obscene number of different tabs on her web browser. Idle curiosity got the better of me and I clicked through some of them.  
  
More than a few were opened to various Wikipedia pages about one complicated physics topic or another. Others were just streams of annotated text that I couldn't even begin to make sense of and a couple were open to a webpage with the NASA logo in the top left corner.  
  
" _Lisa must really like science._ " I thought to myself right before I started to feel bad about snooping and carefully closed the laptop.  
  
I glanced at Lisa again and after a moment of hesitation I carefully pulled the blanket she had draped over her legs up to her shoulders before settling back down onto the couch. Scooping up my wayward pillow and blanket, I tried to get comfortable again so that I could try my hand at another round of meditation.  
  
Without the soothing sounds coming from the speakers, the silence of the apartment was suffocating. As I sat there alone with my thoughts, the demons that had begun to haunt me began to claw their way back into my mind. After a dozen repetitions of chasing train of thought in a self defeating mental circle, I tried to clear my mind by focusing on the sound of Lisa's breathing and matching my own to hers. It didn't work as well as I would have hoped and I found myself anxiously counting the minutes until she woke up.


	5. 1.4

1.4  
  
It was after noon when Lisa finally began to stir. She must have been tired, as the entire time she was sleeping she had hardly shifted her position. With a big yawn and a back arching stretch that reminded me of a cat, she blinked her eyes open and almost immediately looked to me. Embarrassed to be caught staring I flinched away and turned my eyes to my lap. That seemed to be enough to clue in whatever highly perceptive instincts she had and her body stiffened, brow furrowing together as she leaned forwards to fold in the footrest of the recliner.  
  
"What, what's wro- ah!" She flinched, right hand coming up to press into her eye as she doubled forwards, cringing in obvious discomfort. I tensed, arms coming up and reaching out towards her in an instinctive desire to help without knowing what was wrong.  
  
"Ah," I began, my voice surprisingly clear in spite of my long and silent morning vigil. "Are you-" She waved me off mid sentence, dismissing my concern.  
  
"It's nothing, just a bit of a headache. I'll be fine once I get some caffeine in my system." She sat there leaning forwards and rubbing at her eye for a few more moments before my helpless fidgeting drew her attention back to me. "Er, anyway, did something happen last night? You're looking a little tense. Did the meditation not work out?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
I told her about what had happened, doing my best to share the important details without droning on and on and wasting her time. She took everything in with a focused expression: mouth pursed to one side and eyes rapidly flicking back and forth in what I was coming to regard as her thinking face. She absorbed the details like a sponge, stopping me every now and then to ask for clarifying information on a few different points. She paid particular attention to my description of the 'sparks' and the 'crystals' and I got the impression that she found my own study of them a bit lacking.  
  
Eventually she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes with a sigh. I flinched, wondering whether or not she was already starting to get sick of me. After a moment or two of massaging one of her temples she spoke up again.  
  
"I don't think it's anything to worry about. Most powers seem to be accompanied by protections for their users, like a pyrokinetic not being hurt by their own flames. I've also got some theories about your power and those _sparks_ you mentioned, and I think I'll be able to say with more confidence once we do some power testing, but really I think it was just a matter of not being prepared for it and surprising yourself." Her eyes blinked open and she flashed me a cheeky little grin. "I'm pretty good at figuring things out so rest assured with my assessment. Dr. Lisa's intuition is right ninety-ish percent of the time."  
  
"Oh um, is that your power or something?" I asked. Lisa cocked an eyebrow at me speculatively an instant before common courtesy caught up with me and I slapped a hand over my mouth. "Uh, forget that. It's a big no-no to ask about cape stuff isn't it? That's just-" She waved me off with another lopsided grin.  
  
"Most of the time? Yeah, it's not a good idea to bring up cape stuff in a civilian setting, but our circumstances are a bit unique. I don't mind if it's you who's asking, _but_ ," She drew out the last syllable as a playful twist came to her lips. "At the same time, if I came clean with all of my little secrets don't you think I'd lose some of my charming mystique?"  
  
I blinked at her, trying and failing to decide whether or not she was kidding. Seeing my likely stupefied expression, an unladylike snort escaped from Lisa before she covered her grin with her free hand and leaned forwards, reaching for a nearby smart phone on the coffee table.  
  
"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you; you've just got the best confused faces. Super..." She trailed off as the phone screen came to life and her focus shifted to it. "Shit." She swore under her breath, grin vanishing and forehead creasing with worry lines as she began rapidly tapping away at the touch screen. She had only just barely stopped typing when it vibrated in her hands. Another quick round of tapping later and she had jumped to her feet, stumbling briefly as her right hand shot to her temple again before she seemed to find her balance and turned back to face me.  
  
"So um, I  had originally planned on not going anywhere today so that we could stay in and get to know each other a bit better: you know," She waved her hand in an emphasizing circle as she briefly stalled to find the right words. "Like, to make ourselves a little bit less like complete and total strangers. But! It seems like I'm gonna have to go out after all." As if to punctuate her declaration, her phone buzzed loudly again in her hand. She brought it up and began to quickly tap away as she continued her explanation.  
  
"My boss wants a meeting and it seems like it's both mandatory and needs to be in person."  
  
"Boss?" I blurted out in confusion. "But I thought you were, uh." I trailed off but the 'I thought you were a villain in a super powered thieving group' was implied anyway. Closing her eyes, Lisa tipped her head back and rubbed at her temple again as she seemed to consider her answer.  
  
"Well, it's a bit complicated and I'd rather not go into it now, but suffice to say that I _do_ have a boss, he _is_ related to the whole villain thing, and I absolutely **_hate_** his guts. Fair enough?" With a quick nod I looked away, feeling ashamed for prying after everything that Lisa had done for me in the short time we'd known each other. She didn't owe me any explanations about anything, but she was still going out of her way to accommodate me.  
  
A frustrated huff drew my attention back to her.  
  
"See, this is why I wanted to be able to stay in today!" Slipping her phone into her pocket, Lisa quickly stomped over to me and clamped her hands down on either side of my face like she had done last night. "It's okay to be asking questions Taylor. In fact, you **should** be asking questions. You don't know anything about me and now all of a sudden you're staying in my apartment. So it's okay! Ask me questions. Impose on me as much as you want. I'm inviting you to, or rather, I'm **ordering** you to! If you have a thought or a concern or even just a random comment, say it out loud. I want to hear what you have to say. What you're thinking is important to me and I want to hear it direct from the source, okay?"  
  
I was so caught off guard by her sudden intensity that it was all I could manage to nod in response. Blinking, I felt the first prickles of tears welling up and I quickly pulled away from her to rub at my eyes.  
  
"Sorry." I immediately apologized in a quiet tone. "I- don't e-even know why I'm crying." I felt the couch cushions shift as Lisa's knees pressed into them and she pulled me into a gentle hug.  
  
"I know." She whispered in a soft voice. "God do I know. It's okay to be confused and upset and sad and angry and everything else you may be feeling so just don't feel like you have to try to bottle it up to avoid troubling me. I'll say it as many times as it takes for you to understand: trouble me all you want, and then just keep on doing it. Right now, that's what I'm here for. That's what **you're** here for." I felt a faint buzz on the side of my thigh as Lisa's phone vibrated again in her pocket. She dropped her head onto my shoulder with a frustrated growl. "Just... as soon as I get back from that **god-damned** meeting. Gah!"  
  
As she got back to her feet and began to hustle towards the hallway she called back to me.  
  
"I'm gonna take the world's fastest shower and then head out. Help yourself to anything in the apartment Taylor. I mean it, this is your home too now so feel free to treat it that way."  
  
She must have been serious in her attempt to take the 'world's fastest shower' as from the time she disappeared from my sight to when she reappeared, patting at her hair with a towel in one hand and pulling a brush through it with the other, not much more than five minutes could have passed. With a hurried gait, she made her way over to the cabinet below the TV and pulled a remote out of one of the drawers. Setting it down on the coffee table she paused to give me a reassuring smile before turning to head towards the front door.  
  
"Go ahead and do whatever while I'm gone: watch TV, use the laptop, even just dig around the cabinets and closets for something interesting. I probably have some notebooks and pencils somewhere. The meeting shouldn't take _too_ long, but I may stop by the Dawkins's house on the way back to grab some of your stuff. Just some essentials like clothes, underwear, and shoes unless you can think of something specific that you need?" Her statement trailed off into a question as she turned to me for confirmation. I looked away and shook my head.  
  
Most of my stuff was still back at the old house. Only the bare minimum had been thrown into a suitcase so that I could be hurried over to Kurt and Lacey's house as quickly as possible. The child services people had probably wanted to hand me off to them sooner rather than later: make me someone else's problem.  
  
"Anyway," Lisa said aloud, drawing my attention back to her. She was kneeling down to tie up a pair of  worn down looking sneakers as she glanced over at me. "I'm also gonna grab a coffee and a bite to eat while I'm out. Do you feel hungry for anything in particular?"  
  
That question gave me pause. Yesterday had been a whirlwind of activity and everything just sort of blurred together in my memory, but I didn't think that I'd been given anything to eat. In spite of that, I wasn't feeling particularly hungry or really much of anything at all. With all of the other changes to my body, I guess it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume that I didn't need to eat anymore either. I was about to tell Lisa that I didn't need to eat anything when she preempted me.  
  
"Let me put it to you this way. Would you rather I got a donut, some sort of sweet pastry, a bagel, or like a breakfast sandwich." I paused with my mouth open. It seemed like 'nothing' wasn't one of my options. I didn't want to argue or take too long deciding since Lisa was obviously in a rush so I made a snap decision.  
  
"Um, a bagel I guess." I didn't feel like eating anything sweet at the moment anyway.  
  
"Right, well, like I said," Lisa announced as she straightened up and opened the door behind her. "This shouldn't take too long: maybe an hour or two, three depending on whether or not I can contact the Dawkins's. Make yourself at home and I'll see you soon." She stepped through the door way and pulled it almost all the way shut behind her before suddenly stopping and poking her head back through.  
  
"I expect you to be here when I get back, Taylor." She announced with a sort of stern set to her features. "Don't go running off, okay? If you disappeared on me I'd have to turn this city inside out to find you and trust me, nobody wants that to happen." I was a bit taken aback but managed to nod in reply anyway. She mirrored my nod with a sort of satisfied expression and then disappeared through the door again, shutting it with a soft click of the latch.  
  
In the silence and dim illumination of Lisa's apartment, I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself. I'd remained more or less stationary in my spot on the couch for the better part of the morning and I had no real inclination to move now. This was exacerbated by the fact that I had no real **need** to move either. I didn't need to get up to use the bathroom at all and sitting in one spot on the couch hadn't made me sore or agitated. I felt sort of detached from the world, or maybe just attached to my one specific spot.  
  
Maybe this was what a barnacle would feel like, if they could muster up the self awareness to feel anything at all: attached to one spot as the rest of the world drifted on around them. Lisa would be like the coming and going of the surf with the way that she energetically bustled her way around me. Where did that leave me now that she was gone? Maybe it was like high tide when the water level would be too high for me to feel the swell of the waves. I was left submerged in the murky depths with no frame of reference for the way life carried on around me.  
  
I didn't like it.  
  
We'd only just met but already Lisa had shown me more sincere human interest and compassion than it seemed like I'd received in the **months** that preceded our meeting. How sad was it that it took my father's death and several suicide attempts for someone to be truly worried about my well being?  
  
No, that wasn't fair. I'd only just started interacting with them again but Kurt and Lacey had seemed nice enough before I spit in the face of their hospitality. How much of that had been because of **me** though and not just respect for my dad's wishes? Maybe in reality I would just be one unavoidable trouble after another for them. Maybe they were glad that I'd run out; that I wasn't their problem anymore.  
  
That wasn't fair either. I needed to stop thinking.  
  
Leaning forwards, I scooped the remote off of the coffee table and turned the TV on. I'd never been a big TV watcher but maybe some mindless daytime television would be enough to keep me distracted so that I didn't have to _care_.  
  
It didn't really matter to me what was on so I just sort of skimmed slowly through the channels. The only exceptions were news channels; I avoided them like the plague for various reasons. Chief among them was the accident. My dad had been fairly important to the dockworker's association and had interacted with the mayor of the city often enough. That made him important enough for his death to be news right? I had no interest in hearing what the news would say about him: pretending that they cared or worse, using his death to spew some bullshit political agenda.  
  
Just as bad would be if they didn't mention him at all; if they deemed him not important enough for even a passing mention. He'd worked so hard for the sake of the city and for the people who worked and lived here. The idea that they might snub all of his effort, all of the time and happiness he'd sacrificed in an attempt to make Brockton Bay a better place, it made my blood boil just thinking about it.  
  
How **dare** they?!  
  
A wisp of smoke entered my vision and I gasped in surprise. Looking down I noticed that where my hands were fisted up in the blanket, the material around them had started smoldering. With a yelp I tore my hands away, ripping off a portion of the fabric in the process and fully igniting the blanket with the sudden increase in air flow. Frantically, I smacked at it before the knowledge from the various school fire assemblies kicked in and I folded the blanket over on itself in an attempt to smother the flames.  
  
With a sort of frantic fervor I stood up from the couch, tearing the blanket even more in the process, and whipped my head around to give the room a frantic survey. I found my target, long white curtains hanging just behind the couch I'd just been sitting on and pulled them open. Kneeling back down on the couch, I leaned forwards to fumble with the lock on the window sill and when I'd figured it out I threw the window open.  
  
I jumped back to my feet and with a frantic pace began to fan the air of the apartment towards the now open window. The last thing I needed was to set the fire alarm off and risk getting the whole building evacuated. Unfortunately, fanning the air with something that had just recently been on fire seemed to be a bad idea as the blanket reignited with a small flame in the center.  
  
With a panicked cry I did the first thing that came to mind: I hugged the blanket to my chest and smothered the flames with my body. Stooping over, I grabbed one of my pillows off the couch and resumed my fanning with that instead.  
  
I must have stood there, waving a pillow around like an idiot for a good ten minutes before I finally stopped to assess the situation.  
  
First of all, I didn't hear any alarms going off, so that was a good thing. I looked down, pulling the blanket away from my chest and felt my heart drop into my stomach. Between the blackened scorch marks, the hole torn out of the center, and the fluttering strips of ribbed fabric that had been pulled apart when I stood up, I didn't think there'd be any salvaging it. Worst of all was that I didn't even have any idea what I'd done!  
  
I looked down to focus on one of my hands and realized that there was a fading feeling of warmth, though whether that was because of the fire or something to do with my power I wasn't sure. It probably _maybe_ had been my power since so far feeling temperature on my skin had been sort of vaguely numb and detached, but I didn't know that for sure and was certainly not going to experiment in the middle of Lisa's apartment. She was probably already going to be furious with me for destroying the blanket; she'd explicitly told me not to use my power in the apartment and here I'd already broken that rule in the first day.  
  
There was a sudden pounding on the door and I **screamed**.  
  
Slapping my hand over my mouth, I cut the sound off into a choking whimper. I didn't know if I really even had a heart anymore, but if I did I imagined it pounding at a frantic pace.  
  
Who was knocking at the door? Had someone smelled the smoke and come to see what was wrong? Maybe there was some sort of silent alarm that sounded before the main alarm incase a resident had merely burned something while cooking. I couldn't even pretend that no one was here since they'd obviously have just heard me scream.  
  
Tentatively, I did my best to tiptoe over to the door and peeked through the peephole.  
  
Even through the distortion of the lens I could tell the man waiting on the other side was big: probably a good head taller than me if not more and with shoulders so broad and bulky he'd be right at home on a professional sports team. I briefly wondered if he might be some sort of security guard for the building before I noticed his arms. Tucked between his waist and one beefy forearm was what looked like a brown box. In the other hand was some electronic device with a screen and a bunch of buttons.  
  
Was he a delivery man?  
  
I cleared my throat before calling out.  
  
"Y-yes?" The man didn't seem surprised at this and smoothly answered back.  
  
"I've got a delivery here for a Lisa Wilbourn. Someone needs to sign for it for proof of receipt." I breathed a sigh of relief. He was just a delivery man, not someone sent to investigate. I took a step back, found the lock on the door and twisted it open, and slowly pulled the door open to peer out at him.  
  
He was certainly large, even without the widening distortion of the peephole lens. He must have been a foot taller than me with shoulders a good three times wider than my own. I could also make out the edges of a number of tattoos around his neck and chest where the buttons of his brown polo shirt were left undone, and around his thick biceps. Those combined with the scars around his hands and face gave him a rather rugged appearance and left me to wonder if maybe he'd been in prison and was one of the few to find an actual legal job when he got out.  
  
Being a delivery man in a crime ridden place like Brockton Bay was probably pretty dangerous, so I could see the advantages of hiring a driver with a more intimidating build. At the same time though, I imagined that most people would be hesitant to open their doors for someone like him. Maybe it was the scars but he seemed to have something of a dangerous air about him.  
  
Before the accident I probably would have been afraid to be approached by someone like him. Now though, I merely reflected on the irony of it: that despite appearances, between the two of us it was **me** who was the dangerous one. What would he think if he knew that last night I had almost murdered _Lung_ in cold blood. I'd wondered if he was a prisoner but it was really me who should be locked up.  
  
I was pulled out of my thoughts by a sharp intake of breath. I looked to the delivery man's face to find him sniffing at the air with a confused set to his features. I felt my face heat up and I turned my eyes to the floor. He could probably still smell the smoke from the blanket. My embarrassment tripled, no **quadrupled** when I realized that I was still holding the obviously burnt and torn blanket in front of myself, clutching it to my chest like some sort of security blanket. He seemed to try to peer around the doorframe into the apartment before giving me a purposefully neutral look.  
  
"Is everything alright, miss?"  
  
"Yes." I squeaked out, nodding as I tried to hide my shame. He cleared his throat before holding out the electronic device for me to take.  
  
"I need you to sign in the box for proof of receipt." I glanced up at the little glowing pad before turning my attention back to the floor.  
  
"Um, Lisa isn't here right now." I mumbled. The man was unfazed.  
  
"That's fine, miss. So long as _someone_ at the specified location signs to confirm that the package was received, it doesn't need to be the indicated recipient."  
  
"Oh, uh, okay." I took the device from him and popped the little pen out of the side of it before hesitating. A part of me was considering using a fake name, just in case for some reason the child services people were trying to track me down, but I dismissed that idea as foolish. Lisa had probably already told Kurt and Lacey where she lived and I didn't want to cause any problems if for some reason the delivery company's systems tried to verify the authenticity of my name.  
  
I began to sign on the little screen when a shrill ringing made me jump. I looked up to find the delivery man reaching behind his back.  
  
"Ah," he started, mouth open in surprise before he gave me an apologetic expression and held up a finger on the hand supporting the box. "Please excuse me for one second, I need to take this."  
  
"Sure." I mumbled in response before returning my attention to the device as the man stepped back and pulled out his phone, flipping it open. There was a big slashing scribble through part of my name from when I jumped. I did my best to finish my signature around it and just hoped it would be good enough. That done, I glanced up at the man.  
  
"Yeah. Right. Right." He glanced up at me. "Dinner at 6:30, yeah I got it. I won't be late." With that he flipped the phone closed and slid it into his pocket. "All set?" He asked. I nodded and handed him the device.  
  
"Uh, it got sorta- um, messed up." He glanced at the screen briefly before waving me off.  
  
"That's fine. Here's the package." He held out the box and I took it. It was square, not more than a foot or so long, tall, and wide. It didn't seem heavy, but I didn't really know how my super strength worked either so for all I knew it may have been. "Thank you for your time." He said with one final nod before turning to head back towards the elevator and stairwell. Stepping back into the apartment, I pushed the door shut behind me and twisted the lock.  
  
Stepping away from the door, I carefully set the box down on the counter separating the entryway from the kitchen. I made it three more steps before the strength left me and I collapsed to my knees, sagging sideways to lean against the wall. With shaking hands, I pulled the blanket away from myself to reassess the damage. My hopes that it wasn't as bad as I had thought were dashed immediately and thoroughly. Worse, I noticed that the front of the fluffy pajamas that Lisa had leant to me to wear had been thoroughly singed.  
  
Pulling the blanket up, I buried my face into it to stifle the first of my hopeless sobs. I wanted to run away: to disappear and never come back, but Lisa's words echoed in my memories. ' _I expect you to be here when I get back Taylor.'_ And why shouldn't I be. It wouldn't be right to destroy her property and then not be here to answer for it when she got back. I'd wait until she got home and got the anger out of her system before going off to find some hole to crawl into: someplace deep and dark where I could never be seen again and couldn't ruin anything else.  
  
Eventually I stopped crying but I never moved from the spot where I'd fallen.  
  
An eternity later, Lisa came home.  
  
Her return was heralded by the frantic slap of sneakers on thin commercial carpet and a bang as she seemingly collided with the apartment door in her haste. There was a scrabbling sound of metal scratching on metal before the lock was opened with a clack and she threw the door open. It slammed into the stopper with a loud bang and a jingle of keys still hanging from the lock.  
  
"Taylor! Taylor are-" She cut off with a hiss of air before frantically stepping towards me, and dropping to her knees. "Taylor, are you alright?! Did something happen?!" Her frantic tone was enough to start me crying again.  
  
"The b-blanket." I mumbled, hands shaking where they clutched the fabric.  
  
"Blanket? What blanket? Taylor, what happened?"  
  
"I ruined it!" I sobbed into the fabric, unable to pull my face away and face her properly.  
  
"You ruined- Wait, what?" Her panicked tone gave way to confusion and after a moment I felt her pull on the fabric of the blanket, likely inspecting the damage. "That- uh, did nothing happen?"  
  
"Nothing?" I asked in disbelief, finally pulling my face away to turn and meet her bewildered stare. "I destroyed it! It's burnt and ripped and-"  
  
"Taylor, the blanket doesn't matter!" She insisted, grabbing me by the shoulders. "Are you alright?" I gaped at her, mouth opening and closing as my thoughts ground to a halt. She blinked a few times as her brow furrowed together before she looked down, pulling the blanket away from me to inspect my front. Pinching the fabric of the pajamas around the scorched area she tugged on it, turning back up to meet my gaze again. "What about this? What happened here?" I blinked looking down.  
  
"Uh, I- I somehow set the- the blanket on fire, and then, uh, tried to put it out." Her face scrunched up in confusion.  
  
"On your chest?" Her honest bewilderment made me flush and I turned away from her to stare at the floor.  
  
"Um, yes?"  
  
A few seconds of stunned silence passed.  
  
Finally the tension seemed to drain out of Lisa's body and she slumped forwards into me. Her arms curled around the small of my back and her head plopped down on my shoulder.  
  
"Oh thank God," she breathed out in a shaky whisper. I sat there dumbfounded, arm coming up to hover awkwardly by her shoulder, unsure of whether or not I should be hugging her back. After a few moments she started to sniff and I had a mini internal panic attack.  
  
"L-Lisa-"  
  
"Just-" She cut me off. "Just give me a minute." Eventually I gathered up the courage to rest my hand on her shoulder and did so. A minute later, there was another loud, drawn out sniff before Lisa cleared her throat and sat back up straight to face me. "So, just to clarify, nothing besides the blanket happened while I was gone?"  
  
"Um," I blinked at her. "The delivery man came." To my surprise, she stiffened and her eyes widened partway in surprise before her head snapped up to survey the apartment.  
  
"Delivery man? What deliver-" She cut off as soon as she saw the box on the counter above us and practically leapt to her feet. Scooping up the box, she turned and stormed out of the still open apartment door, calling back to me in a clipped and angry tone. "I'll be right back."  
  
A short time later, she returned without the box.  
  
Pulling her keys from the front door, she shut it behind her as she stepped back into the apartment and slipped off her shoes. Walking back over to where I was still sitting on the floor, she stooped down and grabbed a white paper bag that I hadn't noticed sitting on the floor next to me. Holding it up next to her head, she gave it a little shake and showed me a radiant smile.  
  
"Let's eat."


End file.
